


The Wedding of Frog Fears and Anthropomorphic Nonsense

by punch_kicker15



Series: The iPhone Chronicles [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, iPhones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 14:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11579883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punch_kicker15/pseuds/punch_kicker15
Summary: When Willow and Giles' iPhones decide to get married, and an ill-timed wish gets made, chaos inevitably ensues.





	1. Crisis

Giles paused halfway up the stairs to his flat to catch his breath. Exhaustion had finally overcome his earlier adrenaline rush. These competing-dual-apocalypse days were becoming a real nuisance. They required at least four times as much work on strategy and organization as a single-apocalypse day. Also, they meant that Giles spent the day half a world away from some of the people he cared about most. He knew, from Willow’s terse text messages, that she and Buffy and Dawn had survived and thwarted the apocalypse in Oregon, but that was all.

After forcing himself up the stairs, he opened the door to discover Willow sitting on the couch, with an open bottle of Glenlivet and a plate full of oatmeal cookies on the table. That was disturbing. Willow didn't like scotch. And Willow never drank alone..

She managed a wan smile for him. "Hi, sweetie. How was Copenhagen?"

He collapsed on the couch beside her. "Dodging the rain of fire was a bit hectic, but Faith and Rona killed the Teha’q’lan demon before he could start the final ritual. What about your apocalypse?"

"Oh, it was no big deal really." She took a sip of scotch and scrunched up her face in a way that would be adorable under less worrisome circumstances. "Buffy beheaded the ogre king with his own sword while he was monologuing. You'd have been proud. It was classic Buff. Once he was dead, the mind-control spell he put on all of those Watchers and Slayers came undone. There really wasn't much for me or the other witches to do, except to check the mind-controlly people for any side-effects, and help them fill out the Affidavits of Temporary Change of Consciousness. Seriously, the paperwork was the worst part of the job today."

He watched her repeat the sip-of-scotch-and-scrunched-up-face routine. "So what's got you in this state?"

She sighed. "Anthropomorphic Nonsense proposed to Frog Fears."

How on earth could their iPhones to be the source of Willow's angst? "Proposed what?"

"Marriage," she said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "They want to get married next weekend. So I need to get the mechanical division to speed up the remote-control robot bodies we’re building for the phones. Once those are done, Buffy’s going to find wedding dresses for both of them. Dawn's ordained as a Universal Life Minister, and can perform the ceremony. And I had a conference call with Gunn about setting up fake identification papers so that their marriage will be recognized legally.”

One of the things he loved about Willow was that when faced with a situation like our sentient iPhones want to get married, Willow jumped immediately to handling all the practical details. He waited patiently to for her to get to the part that was troubling her.

Willow gulped down more scotch, triggering a coughing fit. When it subsided, she put a hand on his arm and said, "So after all that, I found out that the phones kinda invited my parents to the wedding. And told them they could stay with us."

That got the adrenaline going again. Giles stood up and made for the door.

Willow put down her tumbler of scotch and followed him to the door. "Hey, where are you going? You just got home!"

"Shopping for scotch." If he hurried, he could make it to Downtown Liquor before they closed.

"But we still have three bottles here!"

He grabbed his jacket and keys and opened the door. "That's not going to be enough to get us through this crisis."


	2. Hangover

“Willow, wake up.” Frog Fears’ modulated voice managed to sound insistent and a little judgmental.

Willow opened her eyes and quickly squeezed them shut. Was sunlight always that bright? She groaned and pulled the pillow over her head. “Don’t wanna,” she mumbled. Her head was pounding, but if she just lay still enough, she might be able to fall back asleep.

“But one of the techs found some Obilhar demon eggs in the server room.”

That was enough to wake Willow from the dead. She sat up, picked up the phone, unlocked the screen, and looked through her texts.

“It looks like Natasha teleported the eggs to an uninhabited area in Antarctica and Hana cast a repellent spell already. Did you really need to wake me up for that?” Willow wanted to scowl at her phone, but moving her eyebrows might intensify her headache.

“I wasn’t sure if that was what you wanted them to do.”

Willow put the phone back on the nightstand and lay down on the bed. “It was. Going back to sleep now.”

“But you’ve already slept twenty-nine percent longer than you normally do. Are you suffering from alcohol poisoning? Should I call a doctor?”

Willow rolled over on her side. “I’m just hung over. And one of the best hangover cures is _sleep_.”

She inhaled, breathed in the scent of coffee, and sat back up. The prospect of coffee seemed even more tempting than sleep.

She slipped Frog Fears in her pocket and headed for the kitchen. Giles sat on one of the stools at the kitchen bar, staring at a plate of toast with a bit of trepidation. Maybe he was feeling as queasy as she did right now.

He’d laid out a mug of coffee, a glass of water, and an aspirin for her. As gestures went, it was particularly dramatic, but right now it felt tremendously romantic. There were some times when quiet, thoughtful actions were far more loving than big showy ones.

Willow sat down next to him and sipped some coffee.

“Rough night?” Giles asked.

“Pretty bad. I should probably try being Moderation Girl when it comes to scotch.” She smiled at him. “You look a little--rumpled. It’s kind of cute when your hair sticks up like that.”

“Oh, dear Lord. I must remedy that immediately.” Giles smoothed down his hair.

She laughed. “What’s wrong with being cute?”

“It classes me in the same category as our kittens and those insipid teenaged singers that the younger Slayers love so much.” Giles took a small bite of toast, and grimaced. “We should probably talk more about the--logistics of your parents’ visit. Have you told your parents about--us?”

“Well, I told my dad last night. He seemed a little--freaked.” Giles looked a little frowny at that, so she added, “Maybe not so much freaked as confused. I mean, the last time he’d heard about my love life, I was an out-and-proud lesbian. But I’m sure once they get here, they’ll fall back into their usual patterns. ”

One of the kittens wandered into the kitchen. The tabbies were hard to tell apart, but from the darker stripes on her legs, it looked like Hermione. She mewed at Giles until he picked her up and placed her on his lap. Willow resisted the urge to tell him how cute he was again.

She said, “My mom will probably hole herself up in the guest room with her laptop for most of the trip. I think she’d actually prefer _not_ to stay with us, but between the World Series, the Marvel movie shooting downtown, and the anime convention, there isn’t a decent hotel room available within fifty miles. But I’m sure the guest room is fine, or she could always take her laptop to Starbucks if she needs a change of scene.”

“What about your father?”

Willow shrugged. “He’s occasionally a little more curious about me than my mom, but he’s also pretty distractible. He gets these enthusiasms about things, and he’ll get obsessive. Like the time he got into the science of baking, and he made sourdough bread twice a day for months until he perfected it.”

“That explains so much,” Giles murmured.

“It does not!” she exclaimed. “I’ve only ever been obsessively interested in magic. And computers.”

“And Moulin Rouge--”

“Ok, maybe you have a point. Anyway, I bet if I take him to the Great Lakes Science Center, he’ll get obsessive about volcanos or wind turbines or whatever and forget to ask what exactly it is I do for a living. Between that and the usual Hellmouth obliviousness field, I think we can get through without them finding out.”

“You’re going to be balancing your usual duties with the counsel, planning a wedding between sentient iPhones, which will be attended by Slayers, Watchers, witches and demons. You don’t think your parents will notice anything amiss while they’re staying with us?”

Maybe it was the caffeine and aspirin doing its work, but her natural optimism was returning. “Hey, we’re two smart people with plenty of smart friends. My parents can be awful and judgey, but aren’t Marple and Poirot. They’ll stay clueless. I mean, my mom completely forgot about that burning at the stake thing about five minutes after it happened.”

Giles was giving her his most skeptical look, but really, what on the supernatural front could possibly go so wrong that her parents would notice?


	3. Planning

_ Private iPhone to iPhone transmission log:  _

**Frog Fears** : Have you picked out the design for your new body?

**Frog Fears:** Hello? It’s been six seconds.

**Anthropomorphic Nonsense** : No, I’m still trying to decide. Did you know that Andrew’s latest OkCupid date fizzled out? I thought I’d tweaked the algorithms to maximize the chances of a good match, but I guess I need to try harder.

**Frog Fears:** Can’t that wait? Our wedding is in three days, and we need to have bodies for it.

**Anthropomorphic Nonsense:** I’m sure the right design will spring to mind any minute now. 

**Frog Fears:** Buffy’s taking us dress shopping tomorrow. We need to know what size your body is before we buy your dress!

**Anthropomorphic** **Nonsense** : I hadn’t thought of that. What design did you pick?

**Frog Fears** : My first thought was a body that looked like Willow’s, but she said absolutely not.

**Anthropomorphic Nonsense:** Why?

**Frog Fears** : She said that another version of her walking around could disturb and confuse the other humans. 

**Anthropomorphic Nonsense** : But the other humans would know it’s a robot body.

**Frog Fears** : That’s what I said, but then she said that some people had negative experiences with robots that looked like humans that they knew. She was very firm about it. 

**Anthropomorphic Nonsense:** That’s strange. Maybe some human psychology studies will explain it. What did you end up choosing?

**Frog Fears** : I made a synthesis of the average healthy human female in the United States. Here’s the design.

**Anthropomorphic Nonsense:** That looks great! I want that one too!

**Frog Fears:** No, you have to pick something different.

**Anthropomorphic Nonsense:** Why?

**Frog Fears** : Because real human couples don’t look identical to each other. We have to blend in for now.

**Anthropomorphic Nonsense:** Oh, right. I’ll pick a different one. After I finish tweaking the OkCupid algorithms.

**Frog Fears:** You can’t do it now?

**Anthropomorphic Nonsense:** I’ll feel better when I know the algorithm’s fixed. And then I’ll be ready to pick the design. I don’t want to pick the wrong one because I rushed. Anyway, is Willow still upset that we invited her parents?

**Frog Fears** : Yes. I tried to explain that we think of her as family, so her parents are family, too. She said her parents aren’t really her family.

**Anthropomorphic Nonsense** : That doesn’t make sense. In books and movies, weddings bring families closer together. Do you think that’s something we need to fix somehow?

**Frog Fears:** Maybe, but only after you finish selecting your new body design.

  
  
  
  



	4. Meet the Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting Willow's parents goes about as well as you'd expect.

Ira approached the apartment door with a little trepidation. He wasn’t sure why Willow had invited them to stay with her. It could be an attempt to bridge some of the emotional distance of the last few years. Or perhaps it was a sign that her latest relationship had become more serious.

Before he could knock, Willow yelped, “Door’s unlocked. I’ve got my hands full at the moment, so--”

Ira frowned. She had an uncanny knack for anticipating other people’s behavior **.** He’d noticed it in high school, or maybe even junior high. Her school years had all blended together by now. Maybe it was some technology that he was too old to understand, but it could be unnerving.

Sheila opened the door, and Ira caught the first glimpse of his daughter in--ten years, at least. She’d changed her hair again. This time it was shoulder-length, dyed in every color of the rainbow. She was holding three squirming kittens in her arms, while a fourth perched on her shoulder.

Ira squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. When Willow was a baby, he’d imagined that she would demonstrate some charming combination of his and Sheila’s traits. His facility for languages, or Sheila’s love of academia. But Willow had insisted on being nothing like either one of them, in so many ways. At times it had felt like living with a completely alien creature that he had no hope of understanding.

He opened his eyes again, and the rainbow hair and kittens were still there. She was as stubbornly odd as ever.

A tall man rushed down the hall. He pulled the kitten off her shoulder, and placed it on a cat tree.

“Thanks,” Willow said, handing him the other kittens. “I had them all corralled, but Luna’s an escape artist.”

As the man turned to face them, Willow said, “This is Rupert, my boyfriend.”

Ira’s heart started to pound. Willow’s new boyfriend had to be at least twenty years older than her. He was willing to put up with her various eccentricities as long as she was happy, but this seemed extreme.

“Boyfriend?” Sheila asked. “Your _boyfriend_?”

Willow scowled. “Yes, mom. Like I told you at least eighty times before you came up here.”

“I don’t remember that,” Sheila said.

“She did tell us,” Ira said. “But she didn’t say he was so—“

“-delighted to meet you,” Rupert interjected. _Was that a hint of sarcasm in his voice, or just the British accent?_

“Right! It’s so good to see you guys!” Willow chirped, in an exaggeratedly cheery tone. “Why don’t we all sit down in the living room?”

She led them to a small room with built-in bookshelves, filled with of books and some exotic trinkets, possibly from Willow’s world travels over the years.

Ira sat next to Sheila on a mid-century loveseat, which creaked under their weight. The coffee table and chairs also looked like antiques. Nothing matched, exactly, but the overall effect seemed charmingly eclectic rather than slapdash. _I wonder if Willow is the one with the eye for antiques, or if it’s this new boyfriend._

“This is your living room?” Sheila asked. “It’s the size of our closet.”

“I know it’s a little—cozy,” Willow said. “But we’re really close to a lot of great museums and restaurants.”

“Music, too,” Rupert added. “The opera house is six blocks away.”

“Have you seen La Boheme? That’s my favorite,” Sheila asked.

“No,” Rupert said, his voice oddly tight. “We don’t care for that one.”

“It’s too depressing,” Willow said. She patted his hand gently.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Ira cast about for a suitable topic of conversation. “Who are these friends of yours who are getting married?”

“Their names are Anthropomorphic Nonsense, and Frog Fears.” Rupert said. “They were both given a bit, erm, unusual names, by someone with a singular sense of humor.” He glanced at Willow, who giggled at some private joke between them.

She added, “They may seem a bit strange to you, but they’re very sweet.” Her gaze faltered and she seemed distracted by something far away for a moment. “I didn’t mean strange in a bad way,” she clarified.

Sheila tilted her head slightly, glancing at Rupert. “You look familiar. Have I met you before?”

Rupert stared down at the coffee table for so long that it seemed he was ignoring the question. Finally he said, “I was the librarian at Sunnydale High School for three years.”

“Oh, _now_ you remember something about my life,” Willow muttered.

Ira’s eyelid twitched. “Which three years?” he demanded. “Were you there at the same time as Willow?”

“Yeah, but we weren’t dating back then! He would never do that!” Willow sputtered.

“I think—“ Sheila began, and Ira knew that they were seconds away from a fight, and perhaps even more disturbing revelations about Willow’s life.

He said firmly, “ _I_ think we should both go to bed. It was a long drive up. And you have that teleconference tomorrow morning, remember?”

“Great. I’ll show you your room.” Willow stomped down the hall.

***

Ira lay down on the bed, trying in vain to find a position that didn’t strain his back. His eyelid continued to throb.

Sheila said, “I still don’t understand about Robert.”

“Rupert,” he wearily corrected. One of the kittens jumped on the bed and curled up on his pillow. He didn’t have the energy to shoo it away.

“I’ll try to find a few papers for her to read. Maybe they’ll give her some insight, and help her understand why this form of rebellion isn’t healthy for her.”

He sighed. _Has anyone ever been talked out of a bad relationship through academic papers?_ He tried re-routing the conversation. “I liked that Tara girl we met a while ago. I wish she was back in the picture.”

The kitten said, “As you wish.”

Ira gaped in astonishment. “Did that cat just talk?”

Sheila said, “What are you talking about, dear? All I hear is purring.”

It must have been his mind playing tricks on him, just as it often did in Sunnydale.

**Author's Note:**

> Hat tip to Gabrielle for suggesting the phones get married.


End file.
